Someone Else's Problem
by Wanna Write 123
Summary: A darker take on what it truly means to be a vigilante. Stars Casey Jones.


Someone Else's Problem

This bar is the hangout spot for every piece of riffraff that New York has to offer. I don't even mind anymore. I'm just one of them now anyway. Casey Jones – world class drunk. World class bum. World class loser. That's a funny word – loser. You always hear high schoolers throwing it around like a baseball but it really fits me. I've lost. Everything.

Jax the bartender just gives me a look, as if to say "Again, Casey?" I don't care. I order a round and head over to my favorite corner table. It's pathetic really. I'm sprinting to reach a crummy table in a crummy city, with crummy people. It's all I have left.

I had heard it was supposed to be a pretty good movie. Lots of humor, not too serious. April loves flicks like that. And it _was_ good. Funny. Lighthearted. That's what she and I were saying as we were walking out.

I finish up the first drink and ask for another. I notice a pervert looking hungrily at some cute chick that just walked in. That's her problem. I sit down again with my drink.

As the two of us were walking out of the movie theatre, I suddenly heard a voice – a kid's voice – scream out "NOW!" The next few moments went by fast. There was some loud noises. Some screams. Two guys with guns running away. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground. So was April. So were a lot of people. One of the guys with the guns had a purple serpentine tattoo on his neck. It was then I knew what had happened. Who they were gunning for. I threw up. Right next to the theatre's doors.

It takes a lot to get me drunk nowadays. When I drank before, it used to be that my confidence was boosted and I felt happier. Now I'm just drinking to drink. Others however, are still in the "happy drunk" mode. The pervert and his buddies are now talking about the girl a bit louder. They're getting bolder. Again, not my problem.

Two people ended up dying of gunshot wounds that night. Six more, including April, had gunshot wounds in various parts of their body. Most everyone else ran away when they heard the shots. Seems the only one who hadn't been hit was the one they were trying to get – me. Except they did get me. Oh, they might not have put a slug in me but they definitely offed Casey Jones. They got me where it hurts. After that, I would go visit April in the hospital, I'd go to work, and then I'd go to the gym. That became my daily schedule. When April didn't immediately recover, I added "drinking booze" to the list. Not too long after that, I replaced "going to the gym" with "going to the bar." I think I got fired too. Then, I stopped seeing her in the hospital. It didn't matter to me anymore. Whatever happened to her, it was my fault. Me and my stupid heroics. It was all good when I was watching TV. The TV made it seem so easy. Just put on a mask and you could fight crime and make the world a better place. Bull.

I finish up my third bottle. Or was it my fourth? The drunk just made a pass on the girl. She yelped and tries to slap him. He's a lot bigger and catches her hand mid-slap. I can see his grin from here. If you're a pretty girl and you come to this bar, you'd better bring a friend or know how to handle yourself. It's sad but true. This bar is full of predators. Or, in my case, a predator who knows that what he hunts can't be stopped. Someone ought to do something.

The booze eventually became my life. I burned that stupid mask. My bag was a little harder to get rid of so I just left it in my apartment after I was evicted. Raph called few times, wondering where I was and if I needed anything. I threw my phone in the river. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anybody. I'd just devoted three years of my life to stamping out crime and what did I have to show for it? A shot up girlfriend and a few ugly scars. It's like trying to stamp out God. It can't be done. Too bad I learned that too late.

I hear Jax bark at the predator to take it outside. He just grins again and waves him away. Jax just rolls his eyes and goes to serve the next customer. After all, it's not his problem. Not mine either. The girl should have learned to defend herself.

April knew how to defend herself.

She ended up hurt anyway.

The girl lets out a scream. A scream of helplessness and rage.

I know that scream. I try to go back to my booze and drown out the noise. It works. For all of two seconds. I turn my eyes again towards the predator and his prey.

Damn it! I stand up clumsily. My drunkedness causes me to stumble. My life may be a mess but no one deserves to scream like that. I couldn't stop it when April screamed like that but I can stop this. I stagger over to the pervert's table. God, I'm drunk. I grab his shoulder and yank him towards me. He loses the grip on the girl.

"Go home…" I tell her unnecessarily. She's already running for the door. The predator's two buddies stand up and look to their leader.

"You could've just asked for a turn with her, you know." the predator sneers, looking at me like I'd just crawled out of a gutter. In a way, he's right.

"I'm…" I start, stumbling through my hazy mind to put words together. "I'm not going to ask you for anything." I stammer. The predator's two friends laugh. This is just some drunk to them. A drunk that's about to get the tar knocked out of him by their friend. The predator looks to his friends to make sure he's being backed before turning to me.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he asks with a smirk, advancing towards me. I smile too; for the first time in weeks. I'd watch enough TV to know how to answer this question.

"I'm Casey Jones." I say before swinging my empty bottle at his head. He falls to the ground. His two friends immediately jump on me and I go down wildly swinging. The predator gets to his feet after a while and joins in.

Of course, they beat me black and blue. I get in some good hits but I'm drunk, I'm out of shape, and I'm outnumbered. I couldn't care less. As the bouncer throws me out, I couldn't feel happier. Well, happy's not exactly the right word. I feel…free. Like a weight's off my shoulder.

I get myself on my feet and look around, trying to gauge where I am.

The Purple Dragons tried to kill me that night at the theatre. They almost succeeded. Two others died in my place. My girlfriend's in the hospital. They're going to pay for that. Hard.

It might be impossible for me to stop crime on my own but I'll be damned if I'm going to sit back and let it happen. The tables are turned now. Now, I'm the predator and I have my prey.

I start walking down a street before a cab passes by. I hail it.

"Where to, bud?" the cabbie asks.

"2nd Street Hospital. Make it snappy. There's someone I gotta see."


End file.
